


Keep Running Home To You (All I Wanna Do Is)

by RiverHoneyDoctorSweetie



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21760561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiverHoneyDoctorSweetie/pseuds/RiverHoneyDoctorSweetie
Summary: Takes place during s6 e11: Jesus said he had to run. He didn't say who he was running back to.
Relationships: Jesus (Walking Dead)/You, Jesus/Male Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Keep Running Home To You (All I Wanna Do Is)

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written for this fandom before, nor have I ever written x reader fic, so I hope you enjoy it.

When Jesus awoke in an unfamiliar makeshift cell with no real sense of how long he’d been there, his immediate thought was to escape. He needed to get home to where his people, where his _family_ were waiting for him.

So after assessing that neither the water nor the cookie that had been left for him were poisoned (after all, why they would poison him after going through the trouble of saving him and dressing his wounds if they were just going to poison him?) he quickly ate and drank before he slipped his bonds, watched the guard they had posted on the most obvious exit to keep him in and waited for an opening to sneak away and find another way out, which he found in the form of a third floor window.

If there was one thing Jesus was good at, it was thinking on his feet, but it wasn’t until he’d finally lowered himself to the ground that he realized he really didn’t have a plan now. He knew he needed to get home, but at the moment, he wasn’t sure of quite how far away home was. Even if he made it over the wall, he had no weapons, no real sense of where he was, and no guarantee that the tracker, for Jesus knew that was what the rough looking man with the angel wing vest was, wouldn’t come after him.

These people could have killed him, could have left him out there to die, but they hadn’t. Instead they had brought him back with them and left him with food and water. He decided his best chance at making it home might be to make a deal. But first he needed information, _leverage_ .

So he snuck around, found their supply stores (meager given how large their community appeared to be ), their armory (impressive, considerably more so than their food stores), before creeping around a few of the large homes that populated the street in order to find the man who had brought him there, the man he had assessed to be a leader, Rick.

Later, when he was sitting in the RV listening to Glenn and Abraham’s conversation involving ridiculous metaphors for sperm and procreation, he found himself unable to keep his thoughts away from his own child. The little girl he and Y/n had found abandoned and very much alone right at the very beginning.

The two of them had been quietly making their way through a little town, maneuvering swiftly down a backroad when they thought they heard a baby crying from the inside of a car that was surrounded by a group of the dead. They had paused, waiting and listening, and had almost thought they’d imagined it when they heard it again. Her cries were tired, barely audible above the noise of the snarling monsters surrounding her, but they were there.

Up until then he and Y/n had tried to play it pretty safe. They had avoided other people as well as they could, knowing that trusting the wrong sort, or getting caught somewhere in the panic and desperation of some of those groups could easily cost them their lives, and hadn’t gone out of their way to kill the undead creatures which now roamed the streets, only fighting them out of necessity. But the moment they heard those cries, the moment Y/n had given him that look of _I’m about to do something stupid please back me up_ , he didn’t even have to think about it. He just did.

The two of them worked together to take out the group of the dead surrounding the vehicle, then jimmied open the door using the same crowbar Y/n had been using as his weapon of choice.

Y/n unstrapped the baby from the carseat/carrier that was still locked into place in the back seat and took the baby, who was maybe six, seven months old with a head of wispy brown hair, big blue eyes and pudgy, bright pink cheeks, into his arms. He gently rocked her, cooing and hushing until her little cries quieted and she instead looked up at him curiously. Jesus knew as he watched the two of them that this changed things. That he would do anything to ensure the safety of both his love as well as this rosie cheeked girl whom was already quickly stealing his heart.

Back in the present, his eyes focused in on Rick’s hand reaching over and grasping Michonne’s. The way they smiled at each other, the looks they shared, it spoke of familiarity, a shared closeness, but despite his initial assessment, after observing the two a while longer he got the distinct impression that the two had not been romantically involved long.

Watching the two comfort one another made something inside of him ache for his own love. The man he’d been with since Before.

When they’d met Jesus had just begun putting his life back together after having gone through the grueling process of getting sober. He hadn’t been looking for anything serious, hadn’t meant to get so involved, but Y/n was funny and sweet and beautiful and strong. He was kind and caring, but wasn’t a pushover, wasn’t afraid to call Jesus out on his shit. He’d gradually nudged his way past all of Jesus' defenses, taking care of him in the little ways he did. A new beanie when his was starting to look a little too worse for wear, another tube of toothpaste to replace the one that Jesus hadn’t realized was nearing empty, a parting kiss over coffee when he left for work in the morning. Before he knew it Y/n had wormed his way into his heart, leaving articles of clothing in drawers that once contained only Jesus’ own, a toothbrush beside his in the cup next to the bathroom sink, and a dull ache of longing in his heart when they were apart.

Jesus couldn’t wait to get back to his family, to hold the two people he loved most in the world in his arms again. He hoped Y/n wasn’t too worried about him. That was one thing he knew was inevitable with him going outside the walls, but wished he could change nonetheless. He hated making Y/n worry.

******************************

Waiting for Jesus to return was always difficult. Knowing that he was outside the walls, usually on his own, was terrifying. I knew he would do everything he could, whatever it took to make it back to us, but I also knew that nothing out on the road was predictable. Anything could happen to him out there, and if one day he didn't come back we'd probably never know why.

Sometimes when he'd go out he would get held up in someway, causing him to return later than he'd hoped. On a few occasions storms and bad weather had left him holed up for days waiting for the worst to pass before he could make it home. Far more frequently, however, he would run into walkers, or people. Those were the circumstances that scared me the most. And I could just feel in my heart that was what had happened this time.

Jesus had meant to be home yesterday, had said as much as he'd kissed our daughter and I goodbye right before leaving a few days ago. He could waltz through the front gates at any time now, but knowing that didn't stop my mind from running through possible scenarios that could have kept him from coming home to us. A day late wasn't so much in theory, but in this world it could be the difference between life and death.

I tried not to dwell though, didn't have much chance to do so anyway. We all had jobs to do, and mine was to take care of our daughter, Rosie, and help out around the community wherever they needed a few extra hands.

So that is exactly what I did. I awoke that morning in a bed that felt too empty, got myself cleaned up and dressed, then did the same for our daughter. I fed her and myself, then began our usual morning routine of going out to help maintain the crops before the sun had risen too high in the sky.

After a few hours we would retreat back to our trailer and work on learning our ABC's. Rosie, in all her three and a half years, had never wanted anything quite the same way she wanted to be able to read. So each day we would spend as long as her young mind could stay focused and willing reciting the alphabet, practicing writing out each letter, and practicing the sounds that each letter made.

Today we were working on learning to write Q, R, and S, which were some of the more difficult letters for a child under four to pick up, but she quickly got the hang of Q and R. She just couldn't quite get her mind around forming the S on her own. If I mapped it in dots she could trace over it, no problem, but she hadn't yet figured out how to recreate it herself, yet. It would come to her, I knew. She was very determined and tended to pick things up quickly. She just needed a bit more time and patience.

Patience, however, seemed to be one thing Rosie didn't have in abundance today. When I could see Rosie's steely determination quickly beginning to give way to frustration, I decided it was time to switch activities before she devolved into a meltdown.

“Hey, baby girl, why don't we give 'S' another try a little later, and right now we go outside and play for a bit, huh?”, I gently suggested.

The little girl in question paused to think for a moment before nodding, “Okay, Papa.”

I pulled her in for a hug after we'd both risen from our place on the floor, “You've done such a good job today, Rosie. You've been learning very fast, so I think you just need a break before you can get the 'S' shape.”

We quickly gathered up some of her favorite toys and went outside to play in the dirt in near our little trailer. We raced matchbox cars along side little model horses whose brown paint was chipping in places, making them look more frame overo than chestnut.

As Rosie played, I felt my worry for Jesus creeping back into the forefront of my mind. By now it was mid-afternoon. What if-

“Papa?”, Rosie's sweet voice interrupted my inner turmoil.

“What is it, baby girl?”, I replied, bringing myself back into the present.

She peered up at me with big, blue eyes and asked, “When's Daddy coming home?”

“Well...”, I started, but was distracted from answering when Harlan, who must have just returned from his run, came hobbling around the corner supporting Freddie who was a looking fairly beat up and limping at his side.

I quickly stood and stepped towards them, ready to help if needed, “You guys okay?”

Harlan turned his head my way and nodded, readjusting Freddie's arm around his shoulders, “We're fine, just gotta patch up Freddie's leg here.”

My eyes traveled down to look at the wound and I winced, “That doesn't look so good.”

“Could have been a lot worse if Jesus hadn't found us.”, Freddie spoke up.

That got my attention, “Jesus?”, I asked, “Is he back?”

Harlan nodded and said, “Yeah, he found a group out there so he's taking them up to Barrington house.”, before continuing on his way towards the medical trailer.

Relief flooded my system. Jesus was safe, he was _home_ . I knew he'd be round eventually, but I didn't want to wait any longer. I spent enough time without him when he was outside the walls, when I knew that we could be together I refused to waste whatever time we may have by staying away.

I crouched down in front of Rosie, who had resumed rolling her toy cars through the dirt, and asked, “Hey, baby girl, Daddy's home. Do you want to go see him?”

Her face immediately lit up with a bright, dazzling smile, head nodding emphatically as she scrambled up from the ground and exclaimed, “Yes, please, Papa!”

I stood as well and she quickly latched onto my hand and began dragging me away from our trailer.

“Hey, hold up.”, I laughed, “You don't even know where he is.”

She just shrugged and continued tugging at my hand, “I'll find him.”

I chuckled once more, shaking my head, “Daddy's this way, sweetheart.”, as I turned and began leading her in the opposite direction from which she'd been pulling me towards, “Daddy's up at the big house.”

********************************

“Follow me, I'll show you where you can get cleaned up.”, Jesus conceded, slightly warily.

Gregory was already making any potential dealings with Rick's group difficult, and the tension between the two leaders was palpable. Gregory always took any good fortune their community had for granted. He never seemed to be able to look far enough in the future to realize that whatever fortune they had now was only temporary. That at any time someone or something could sour their luck and then they could be stuck in a bad situation made worse by a lack of allies willing to aid them in their time of crisis. Jesus knew what Gregory always seemed to lose sight of: In this new world, people needed each other to survive.

Though Rick's community needed their help today, he knew that one day in the future, be it in a few months or a few years, the Hilltop may need their help in return.

So Jesus would continue to do what he always did when Gregory was being a particular brand of asshole. He would keep the peace for now and try to talk some sense into him later when he had the chance.

Just as he was about to lead the group upstairs, the front door of the house burst open and a tiny figure barreled in.

As soon as the little missile caught sight of her target she yelled, “Daddy!”, and ran full force into strong arms that automatically opened for her, latching herself to him and hugging with all her might.

The moment Jesus had his daughter in his arms again he relaxed exponentially, finally releasing the breath that he always seemed to be holding whenever he was away from she and Y/n.

He held her tight to his chest, closing his eyes and just breathing her in for a long second before pulling back a bit to say, “Hi, Rosie-girl. I missed you so much.”, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

Rosie smiled the easy smile of a small child and said, “I missed you, too, Daddy!”

He smiled back at her warmly, and was about to ask where her Papa was when the man in question came bounding in, closing the still wide open door behind him.

*******************************

As we began breaching the final fifty or so feet between ourselves and Barrington house, Rosie let go of my hand and ran as fast as her little legs could carry her towards the place she knew her Daddy was.

I sighed, shaking my head. That little girl had moxie immeasurable.

I watched Rosie fling open the door before racing through it, leaving it wide open in her wake and as I walked up the front steps a few moments later, I knew we were going to have to have another talk about _responsibility_ and how it was linked to being _mindful of our surroundings_ , ie: not leaving doors open EVER, even if you thought it was safe.

But all these thoughts flew out the window the moment I'd closed the door and my searching gaze finally met that of the man I loved. When his crystal blue eyes met my own y/e/c orbs, I finally felt whole again.

Then he was there and his arms were holding our little girl between us while mine were encircling the both of them, clutching those most precious to me close.

His hand reached to cup my cheek and pull me in for a long, gentle kiss that felt like coming home.

“I'm sorry I'm late.”, he apologized when our lips parted, “I didn't mean to make you worry.”

I scoffed jokingly, “Me, worry? Nah, I knew you'd ninja your way back home sooner or later.”

Jesus smiled, letting his hand stroke down the side of my neck before turning back to the group of strangers that in the excitement of our reunion I hadn't even noticed where standing in the foyer.

“My apologies for the lack of introductions. This is Y/n, and our daughter, Rosie.”, he said.

Members of the group smiled or nodded warily in greeting, and Jesus reluctantly set Rosie back on her feet, “Stay with Papa, okay? I'll be back in a few minutes and then you can tell me all about everything I've missed out on in the last few days, sound good?”

Rosie nodded, taking hold of my hand once more, “Yes, Daddy.”

Jesus gave her one last warm smile before turning back to the group, “Alright, let's get you all cleaned up then, shall we?”, and led the way up the stairs towards the bathrooms.

When Jesus returned a few minutes later he was alone, and so the three of us made ourselves comfortable on a couch in the sitting room. Jesus wrapped an arm around my waist, pressing me close against his side while our daughter sat perched on his lap, her little hands absently attempting to braid his long hair (though mostly only succeeding in creating tangles as opposed to the plaits she was going for) as she told her Daddy all about the crops she and Papa had helped to weed and harvest, and the letters she had learned to write and how Papa said that she was learning really, _really_ fast!

In that moment, as he sat with the love of his life and the daughter they were raising together, his own little family, Jesus reveled in the feeling of being _home_ .

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I've only just picked up writing again after three years of not writing at all. I've also never written for this fandom before, nor have I written anything in the x reader format, so I really hope it wasn't too bad.


End file.
